If My Irish Lad is Lost
by PastaEatingNerd
Summary: A Havshee fic with some random bits of comic canon thrown in: Sean wants to join the Interpol. Alex doesn't want him to. Angst ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Regardless of the nature of what lay beyond its walls, one could always expect a feeling of intense warmth upon entering the study of Professor Charles Xavier. It was as if the small room, made to feel even smaller by the stacks upon stacks of manuscripts upon its many surfaces, exuded some deeply-wrought wisdom. Entrance of the room seemed akin to an embrace of some aging patriarch, at once secure and mysterious. However, today, as Alex Summers sat before his mentor and friend, the nature of the room seemed to have changed. Shivers cascaded down the younger man's spine like icy drops of water. The piles of books, once not unlike guests in the quaint hollow of the office, now seemed to glare down at Alex like stone gargoyles. Somehow, despite the many lamps that Charles insisted on installing to better his reading ability, darkness seemed to lash out from every corner…Or perhaps, when all was said and done, that darkness only existed in the corners of Alex's mind.

"Professor," Alex whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly, "he can't really be thinking…" Charles stared at Alex for a long time, his eyes unfocused and his head clenched in his hands. Alex suspected that Charles was not truly seeing him at all. Alex, his impatience only adding to the sense of dread that already filled his being, prepared to leave the study without further comment. As he reached for the doorknob, a quiet voice, one far too calm for Alex's taste, reached his ears.

"He didn't want you to know," Alex whipped around to face Charles, anger welling up in the pit of his stomach. Why didn't Sean want him to know? How could Sean not want him to know? From their first meeting, the two young men had been closer than anyone would have expected. All of their secrets, their most heartfelt desires, their most private moments were shared. How could Sean not tell Alex something so incredibly important? They were best friends. Sean was Alex's…

"You told him you wouldn't let him send the letter, right?" Alex demanded, not allowing himself to finish his previous thought, "please tell me you told him he couldn't! That he's on contract to the X-Men! That the world isn't ready for people like him…like us! Please, Professor!" Alex took deep rasping breaths, unaware that his voice had become nothing short of a histrionic scream, "don't let him go…"

"I'm afraid I don't have much control in that regard," Charles replied. The older man's shoulders grew tense. Even in his rage, in his sadness, Alex could see that Charles echoed his thoughts.

"Sean is an adult and my X-Men have grown in number by one," the Professor continued, "had it been a few years earlier and before the recruitment of Ororo Munroe, I would have taken any steps I could to forbid it. However, at this point and time," Charles gave a long dejected sigh, "there is truly nothing that I can do…I'm sorry, Alex. I truly am."

Alex knew he meant it too. The Professor always kept his word. He was also no stranger to the feeling of being left behind, the feeling of loss… Loss…Perhaps Sean's letter would become lost in the mail! They'd never get it and they'd never reply… He felt willing to hold every possible chance of Sean staying with the X-Men, with him, firmly to his heart like some precious treasure.

"It's certainly a possibility," said Charles, "but I wouldn't dwell on the issue, not tonight. For your sake and his," Alex let his features become a smirk. He suspected that he'd never become entirely used to the Professor probing his mind.

"It's quite late. Perhaps you should sleep," added Charles, with an urgency that made Alex suspect that he didn't want to—that he couldn't bear to—continue the discussion, "give yourself some time to process the news; perhaps some time to heal…"

Without saying a word, Alex obeyed. Still shivering, he pulled open the study door and made his way toward the hall; the hall that would take him back to the room he shared with Sean…and Sean, a fae's innocence and mischief playing about his features as he slept, and the envalope, printed neatly with the lines, "INTERPOL, General Secretariat 200, quai Charles de Gaulle 69006 Lyon France," that lay upon his bedside table.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex spent the entire night unable to sleep. The fabric of his shirt seemed to crinkle uncomfortably against his skin in a way that it never had before. The small of his back felt tense and painful. Unshed tears seemed to fester around his eyes, making his lids feel swollen and weak. As he lay in bed, forcing himself not to gaze upon Sean's form rising and falling upon the bed across from his, sleep seemed many miles away.

As the first beams of light made their way through small holes in the worn curtains, Sean stirred. Alex watched through half-closed eyes as the other man rose, carefully sliding the blankets off his limbs. Sean had changed since the day of their meeting. Countless missions and training in the Danger Room had given him new muscle. His face, once round with youth, had become harder, his features more defined. An air of confidence brought on by his new-found status as a protector—if not a hero—and the teachings of Charles Xavier sat upon him like an elaborate brocade robe. It straightened his back, held his head aloft and transformed the small steps he once took with trepidation into the long strides of a king. And yet, on the rare occasions when Alex allowed himself to stare into the his old friend's eyes—those wide child's eyes, all innocence and good intentions—Alex knew that he was the same man, the same Sean.

"Alex," Sean whispered, unbuttoning his pyjama top, "Alex, are you awake?" Alex said nothing, keeping his eyes but barely open. Instinctively, Alex knew what Sean was about to do and, as he gazed upon his friend, such passion in his eyes and excitement in his features, realized that there was nothing to be done. Alex could not stand to see Sean unhappy; not irritated or downcast with some small frustration—Alex had become quite used to these moods by now and expected them from the other man—but truly unhappy, guilt, sadness or anger imbued in every corner of his existence, as he no doubt would have been had Alex disturbed him in this act. No, Alex thought, he'd confront Sean upon his return.

Seeming to decide that Alex was asleep and sliding on a shirt, Sean turned his attention to the letter. Picking it up and giving it a final examination (Alex suspected that he was checking for mistakes in the carefully printed address) Sean gingerly tucked the envelope under his arm, shot Alex one last lingering glance and left the room, still wearing his pyjama pants. Generally, if not entirely secluded from civilization, Xavier's School was hardly ready destination for the postal service. Therefore, Alex realized, even with one of Hank's modified cars, Sean would have to drive a good few miles to the nearest post office. It could be near noon before he came back. Slowly climbing out of bed, Alex watched from the window as Sean drove away. No matter how much Alex told himself otherwise, as he caught a glimpse of Sean's empty bed out of the corner of his eye, it seemed to him that his…his friend was already long gone.

A feeling of guttural, almost unearthly heat began to stir up inside the pit of Alex's stomach as he remembered holding Sean's hand in the hospital as they waited for news of the Professor's condition; their very first training session in the Danger Room, fumbling over every obstacle with uncontrolled excitement; how they held a party in honor of Ororo's induction into the X-Men and nearly botched the entire event with their drunken antics; how Sean's accent—now softened by his years in the United States—gave the impression that his every sentence was a song; the innocence that seemed as much a part of him as his hair or his eyes, making him so frustratingly oblivious to the way Alex felt about him.

Taking a deep breath in order to avoid the accidental use of his abilities, Alex reminded himself that it wouldn't do to miss someone who had not yet left…and that it would probably be a good idea to put on his chest plate if these emotions continued to fester within him. "He'll come back," Alex whispered to himself, "even if his letter goes through…even if they accept him…he'll come back…even if it's just for today, he'll come back…"


End file.
